


My Forest Lass

by mandydarlings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Book Verse, F/M, Romance, arya is in charge here everybody lbr, smut if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandydarlings/pseuds/mandydarlings
Summary: Before the battle against the endless night Gendry Waters has a visitor.





	My Forest Lass

It’s the calm before the storm when she finds her way into his tent. Arya Stark appears like a long forgotten phantom clad in leather and knives, but Gendry Waters can pick that furrowed brow out of a crowd. He’s spent years thinking about her enough. Gendry also thinks that the last few years have not been kind to anyone, but the tight lips and the hesitant looks make him think that they have been particularly unkind to her. Gendry wonders about the songs underneath her skin. What he can’t wrap his head around, really, is why now would Arya Stark show herself. He heard the rumors that she was traveling with the companies but he could scarcely believe them, and here she was when if one of his covers fell incorrectly it would expose his naked skin to all the world, and most of all her.

“Arry?” Is really the only word he can muster at this point, he was half asleep when she barged her way in. It’s been a long march north to the wall. A long hush before the company will come face to face with the others. All of the house, proud or meek, joined the dragon queen to fight off the night. The brotherhood joined them to keep the world safe and Gendry went with them. Of course she would be here right in the thick of things. He had hoped she had just tried to go home, but once again everything she does she fights.

"Shut up.” Arya says in a deadly tone. “All of those lords and ladies squabbling over which way to do things will be the death of me.” She begins taking off her jerkins and Gendry turns seven shades of red. “I can’t imagine being near them at this hour without causing their untimely demise.”

Gendy doesn’t even get a moment to protest while she strips down to nothing but an overly large loose jerkin that was hiding underneath all the leather. “Move.” She demands, and he obeys. She lays in the cot next to him and he is very acutely aware of how she is near him in next to nothing. The last five years had certainly enhanced the beauty he remembered being hidden under layers of dirt. Arya got taller, she filled out in ways he tried not to notice. There was no mistaking the woman who was now so close to him as a male. There was also no mistaking how small the cot was, and how achingly close she was. “This is improper, m’lady.”

“Oh, shut up.” She grumbles in true Arya fashion. “I don’t care about any of that. Or are you already planning on leaving me again?”

Biting his tongue he does his best to make no audible noise the last thing he needs is people realizing the princess of Winterfell is in his bed. “No, m’lady, I’m just sayin-“

 “That you can shut up about what’s proper? My entire life hasn’t been proper. Why would I change that now?” She spats defensively.

Using the little bit of common sense that remains to him in the moment he decides not to fight her. The cot is small and he can feel almost everything, and he is praying to whatever gods that will listen to not let his body betray him. Arya may be seven and ten now but he was still a low-born bastard and he was not worth a high born maiden. He couldn’t even ask if her she was still a maiden. He doesn’t really have time to ask before she is asleep next to him. Her body curled near his. He smiles to himself and carefully moves to place more blankets around the sleeping wolf who had blossomed into a woman. The bull watches and keeps her warm even when he thinks the rest of the world has gone cold. “I thought you died.” He whispered into her hair. He catches the smell of her, and she moves closer to him. Part of him wonders if she finally got tired of trying to keep the entire world out, and that’s why she is with him now.

Every bit of him knows that she shouldn’t be here. That Arya Stark should be up with the lords and ladies with their silks and lace instead of down here in the trenches with the men. Gendry remembers her, the real her, all talk and fight eve at one and ten, and wonders if that fire that drew him to her was even a part of her anymore. His body is still bigger than hers by way of years of smithing, but she has grown lean and muscled. Gendry can’t fight his curiosity for much longer and he has to get a better look at her face through the tent filtered moonlight. She retained all the features of the north, the stern and serious, but her hair has grown and fell down in unkempt curls that cover her face. He ungracefully attempts to brush a piece of hair out of her face to get a better look.

“Go to sleep, Ser Waters.” Her tiny voice commands.

 “I was just-“ Gendry doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Arya moves her body very precariously to his. She now lays on her back instead of her side still ever so close to his. Her gray eyes bore into his blue ones and Gendry had to admit even if it was just to himself that she was probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It’s then he becomes extremely aware of her body near his and how little is separating them, with one wrong move of the blanket she would see all of him.

“Your ears are bright red.” Arya points out as he can feel the heat rising to his face, he must look half a fool to the lady before him.

“Sorry, M’lady.” Gendry stumbles with his words and for the first time in a long time since she so abruptly exited his life that he feels woefully underequipped for situations like this. This wasn’t like metal. Metal he could work with, all he could muster at this point was “I’m not really wearing-“

"I know.” Arya cuts him off, “And stop with that M’Lady business or one of those guards is going to drag me back to the gilded cage I escaped from. I won’t do it Gendry. I won’t go back to being a bargaining piece. I heard the Lannisters even sold a fake me to the Boltons. THE BOLTONS.” He remembered that, and he remembered how badly it stung when he heard. “At least down here, I can be me.” She swallos. “Unless you have a problem with that, stupid, and keep calling me-“

“Arry, Weasel, Lumpyhead, it don’t matter soon enough it will be just steel singing and long cold nights.” Gendry says thinking of the creatures that came in the night and destroyed villages, and all the lives around them. Gendry rolls ungracefully away from Arya and turns his back on her. “Are you afraid?”

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.” Arya recites it as if it’s a half remembered prayer.

She surprises him by touching his naked skin under the blanket. She outlines his muscles with her fingers like she is commiting them to memory. For a moment Gendry is glad he turned away from her. “Are you?” She asks. Gendry can feel her face strain to see his response.

“I’d be really stupid not to be.” He replies. “I may just be some stupid bastard but I know-“

“Just some stupid bastard boy who was taught his courtesies. Bend the knee. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” Arya’s hand feels cool on his body. He feels like he is in a fever dream or this might be all part of the red priests promises in the afterlife. For a moment Gendry thinks he must be dead, or why else would she be here.

“What are you playing at?” He asks, and shockingly realizes that his voice has dropped at a low rumbling. He rolls away from her and back onto his side. “Just a stupid dream. You can’t even be nice to me in a dream.” He scoffs.

With that the wolf girl bites him on his shoulder, and he yelps. It wasn’t a hard bite, but it was enough to shock him onto his back. Arya straddles him and hovers about his stomach while she holds down both of his wrists. There is a triumphant gleam in her eye. “Bet I don’t feel like a dream now.” She growls.

She is just so close to him, and he isn’t wearing anything. Gendry bites his lip trying to think of anything but the woman on top of him. Gendry knows about sex, seven hells, he thought about it enough, and most of the time his thoughts would always end up on an older version of Arya that existed solely in his head. Part of him was extremely pleased that his imagination could still not hold a candle to the woman who slithered on top of him. She was swift and skilled, but he was still stronger and while she gloated it only took a shift of his bulk to knock her onto the floor. Gendry used his weight to keep her down while he fell after him, and pinned her the same way she just did to him.

Arya looks him over and he swears he can see her blushing. “You’re naked.”

“I thought you knew.” Gendry laughs, still slightly embarrassed. He knows he is at full attention and he can’t do anything about it now. Arya might just run out like she did all those years ago, but right now she is here with him. Tomorrow may be the end of the world but she is here now.

“You’re all flat.” She says abruptly looking over his naked body with a curiosity. “Well except that one thing. Why don’t they ever mention things like that…”

Gendry releases her mortified, and he fumbles around in the tent trying to find his breeches and at least regain some dignity. He’s not looking at Arya, he knows if he does he’ll lose control and at the end of the day she is still a princess. A princess does not love a bastard. “This is improper” He says stubbornly. Arya watches him quietly stand and fumble horribly trying to pull his breeches on.

“Oh you stupid,” He feels her hand on his shoulder and he turns to face her ready for more insults or even a hit. What he doesn’t brace for is something he never really quite expects.

Arya Stark smells like lavender flowers and her lips are softer than he would have expected. It’s gentle at first, but the harder he kisses her back is like a drowning man who found his final breath.

They stop for a moment, their lips red, staring at each other, sizing the other up. The bull stands steadfast while the she-wolf circles him uneasily. Gendry says what the both of them must be thinking. “These songs never end well, M’lady.”

“I don’t care.” Arya says and takes the initiative and gently nudges Gendry back onto the cot. She stands before him in nothing but the over sized tunic, and he longs for her. Gendry leans forward and places his head between her breasts and listens to her heart beat.

“I thought you died.” He says this time to the woman aware of him.

“I’m alive.” She says to the world around here. “Everyone else is gone, but I’m still here. And I don’t care you stupid…” She squeaks as he pulls her onto him. She is once again straddling him but his large smith hands begin to caress her and explore her body, he is entranced with her the same way he would be when he works.

“I dreamed of you.” He whispered and Arya’s mouth meets his. This kiss is more tentative and deliberate with their mouths exploring each other.

“Bet I looked more of a lady.”

“No, what my head could come up with doesn’t hold a candle… Well, except you were wearing less clothes in my dream.” Gendry smiles sheepishly and his ears turn several shades of red. Arya begins to struggle to get the shirt off of her. With each inch of skin revealed Gendry lays a kiss upon. He runs his thumbs from her stomach to her aptly formed breasts. He notices all the difference scars. Before he can ask where she got them he looks up and there she is beautiful beyond measure in nothing but how she came howling out into the world. Gendry feels whatever question it was it coan wait. This may be his last and only night with the woman he spent years longing for.

Arya makes a soft moan the further up he trails the soft kisses. He wraps her up in his arms before the two of them topple back onto the cot. Gendry attempts to move her to lay down, but of course she fights him. Gendry has to stifle a chuckle as he gets the upper hand. They’ve always fought, why would it stop now? He pins her on her back even as she protests. He moves off the cot and pushes the blankets to the ground. “Trust me.” He says. He pulls her body closer to his and bends down. He does not tell her that that what he is about to attempt was something Lem told him about in his drunken singing. He kisses the inside of her thighs, working the skin with his mouth. Arya soft moans and all he can do is hope that he is doing this right.

For the first time he sees the folds of her womanhood. Its slick and wet as he gently touches it with is forefinger. He watches as Arya squirms and closes her eyes. He works his finger inside her, slowly at first and then a bit harder. He gauges her reaction with each thrust. Curiosity gives in and he begans to work the area with his mouth as well. Sliding his tongue in between her folds and listening to her squeals. She tastes so sweet, he thinks, like milk and honey. Gendry also notices that Arya’s moans are becoming not as quiet as they once were. “Are you okay?” He stops for a moment, unsure.

 Arya nods and urges him on. When he begins to suckle on the folds she grabs his hair and holds on. Lem never told him what it would feel like. He didn’t even think the singer would have been able to put it into proper words. Arya’s body shuddered around his fingers and then relaxed. “Seven hells,” She pants. “Where did you learn that…”

“Don’t hit me… but Lem..”

Of course, she hits him anyway, and he swears he sees her smile for a brief moment.

“M’lady.” Gendry smirks and she hits him again.

“You stupid oaf.”

Gendry lifts himself over her and kisses and her hard and deep, fighting away all the cold that nips at their bodies and he holds her close. It’s then that he remembers his breeches and wonders why he even put them back on in the first place. All he knows it that every inch of him wants her, to be close, to feel her hear beat with his. He wonders if she is a maiden and if he could really take that from her. “Arya…” He says cautiously. Staring at her she looks so vulnerable. The sweat on her skin glistening and him laying between her legs. He thinks about saying he loves her, but kisses her with such ferocity that he didn’t know he had in him that he thinks she might have figured it out. He was the forge and she was the cool steel he tempered with and worked with his fingers. She grasps when they stop for air and gently moves her hips beneath him in a rather suggestive manor. Gendry can feel her wetness against the bulge in his pants.

"Are you sure?” He whispers and met with a gentel kiss as her hands begin to trail down his body and poorly put on pants down. His cock finds its way free and while she finishes removing the breeches with one hand her other hand gently runs down the shaft and sets up on fire with each stroke. “Arya.” He sits up and touches her face, cradling it in his palms. He wonders again what lead her here and how she found him, but he doesn’t have time to think as she scoots him back and stadles him once more. Arya always in charge. She however above him and he controls his desire to take her right there.

“You sure?” She asks. Gendry nods. He has never been so certain.

Arya eases him into her, and he makes a strangled noise, while she yelps a bit. Gendry face turns bright red, and he draws her close. “I’m not hurting you?” He asks. He was always told the first time hurt. Arya shakes her head, and he begins to work at her tight body with short little thrusts. Arya begins to move her body in response and the two of them begin to dance the oldest dance.

The first time he attempts to lay her down on her back she resists out of habit, but then lets him have his way. He works at her breasts with his tongue and each thrust comes a bit harder. The bull and the she-wolfs bodies are completely intertwined and Arya pulls him closer and they move together. “Harder.” She whisperers into his ear and he is more than happy to oblige. Arya shudders once more and it sends him over the edge. She is always in control his lady of the acorn hall.

Perhaps neither of them had realized exactly how loud they were being, as from one of the neighboring tents came the sound of a whooping cheer, followed by a “about damn time, blacksmith.”

The two of them looked over at each other and laughed. Gendry slowly removes himself from her sex and looks at the mess they made around his tent, but he can’t really complain because of the naked beauty beside him. He turns to her and traces the scars around her body. She knows what he is doing, but is even more surprised when he doesn’t asked. “Hmm…” Gendry smiles. “You still smell like a nice oak tree.”

Arya Stark elbows him in the side as he wraps himself around her, sheltering her body from the cold with his. He uses his free arm to pick up the blankets from the floor and wrap them around the both of them for warmth. “What brings you here?” He asks as he curls up close.

“The bag I brought… on the floor… I found your stupid helmet.” She smiles to herself. Gendry looks over at the bag and he can see the horns poking out through the top. He wants to ask how but she is already asleep, blissfully dreaming. He wonders if they’ll be able to stop the long night that approaches, or if this was really just a dream. A dream from a long time ago. He brushes her hair out of her face one more time, and kisses her cheek softly as to not wake the sleeping wolf.

“If you’ll be my lady..”

“I’m not a lady.” Arya insists. “And I can’t be yours.” She shakes her head. Arya has always belonged to Arya.

“Then there will be no feather bed for us.” He sighs into her skin, wedging himself into her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first fics I've ever written. Back when I was still a wee bairn unsure how to tell people where the dicks went. This is what happens when you search for a specific fic. You find old ones and you go 'eh thats not that bad" so please forgive any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoyed.


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